


Too Late

by angellteeth



Series: aus where ford dies for some reason [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: AU, At this point i barely care about the quality, Gen, Pre-Series, The violence isnt THAT graphic bc im not that good, hes a ghost, just tryna get the concept out, the bloody stuff should be contained to the first 2 chapters so yeah
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:14:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26364007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angellteeth/pseuds/angellteeth
Summary: Stan takes his time getting to Oregon, and a lot can happen in a couple days when you're incredibly sleep deprived and irrational.
Series: aus where ford dies for some reason [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1965730
Comments: 14
Kudos: 23





	1. What're ya gonna do?? Stab me?

Ford never had been patient. He'd barely ever been rational.

So he shouldn't have been surprised when he got impatient and irrational waiting for Stan.

What if he never showed? What if he refused? What if some how, Bill already got to him?

No, none of that would do.

He'd have to rely on himself.

So he destroyed the journal.

He'd already memorized most of the pages anyway. If he needed, he could re-write it without the blueprint pages.

He hadn't expected to fall asleep after and wake up in the mindscape.

"Well, well, well, Sixer! Ya finally broke!" Cipher's voice came out of Stanford's own mouth, layering over his own.

"It doesn't matter." Stanford crossed his translucent arms. "The journal is destroyed. I'll destroy the rest, too." The threat was a little hollow. Destroying his life's work would hurt almost as much, if not more, than being betrayed.

"Oh just because you've set me back a little doesn't mean I'm here for nothing! You really think I'd take over your body if it didn't _matter_?" Bill piloted his body into the kitchen, picking through every sharp object he had.

For a minute, he was terrified that Bill planned to use Stan as leverage.

The minute didn't last long, and the terror switched gears when Bill was finally satisfied with a knife.

He stared himself in the eye while Bill slit his throat, and he was launched out of the mindscape once and for all.

In his last moments of "consciousness" he heard Bill say something about using Stan to activate the portal.


	2. Man found stabbed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry

Stan stood in front of his brother's door, hand raised to knock.

For a a minute, he considered leaving. Stanford would never know he was there, and as much as he hated to admit it, he was nervous to face him after all these years.

He took a deep breath and shook himself like a dog, like that would cause the anxiety away, and knocked once.

The door drifted open on its own. He hadn't noticed it wasn't fully shut before.

He stuck his head inside first, taking a look around. It was dark. He took a step and glass crunched under foot. He looked down, and then glanced around for whatever had broken. 

A lightbulb had exploded.

"Uh.. Stanford?" He called his brother, anxiety making it's home in his gut again.

He kept walking through the dark, overcrowded home, forgetting the door and leaving it open. Stanford sure had managed to collect up a lot of science-y junk. He'd taken after their mom, apparently. Always collecting.

Years on the street had fine-tuned most of his senses, except his hearing. His hearing had only gotten worse. 

But his sense of smell was just great.

And he could smell blood. A lot of it.

He bit the inside of his cheek, wringing his hands and walking into the kitchen.

There Stanford was, slumped over on the kitchen floor in a pool blood. A knife was left in the blood pool too, next to Stanford's hand.

He already knew what to expect, but Stan tilted his brother's head back anyway, exposing the clean slice right through his neck.

He practically jumped back, tripping over a chair and ending up on the ground and pushing himself back until his back was against the wall opposite his brother's corpse.

The small, logical part of his brain knew that there was no way in hell this was his fault, but he couldn't help but blame himself. It was a talent of his.

If he hadn't spent a day considering the request, maybe this wouldn't have happened? If he'd broken a few more speed limits and rules of the road? If he had never broken that stupid fucking machine in the first place?

Too busy being distracted by pure panic and grief, he didn't hear the front door slowly creak shut.


	3. Sure, yeah, seems completely reasonable.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanford has to convince his brother ghosts exist via morse code.

Stanford watched Stanley arrive and poke around his house.

The first problem was he was dead and could barely interact with the world around him, much less open the door and say hi.

The second problem was the fact Stan found his body and tripped, then started to panic.

From Stan's perspective, it must have looked like a suicide.

As much bigger resentment he'd felt toward his brother over the years, he felt rather bad for him. There had to be something he could do about it.

He looked around, hoping to get an idea. At the moment the most he could do was move a paper, maybe click a pen.

Like the one he had the in chest pocket on his body.

They'd both learned morse at sixteen.

Maybe Stan still remembered?

Worth a shot.

... - .- -. .-.. . -.-- .-.-.-

_"Stanley."_

The noise made Stan flinch and look around. 

"What the fuck-" He wrapped his arms around himself and swallowed. 

His eyes landed on the pen as Stanford repeated the clicking. He looked over to the side pretty quick.

Stan chocked out a laugh. "Oh my fucking God- I'm goin, insane-" He gripped the fabric of his jacket.

-.-- --- ..- ....... .- .-. . -. .----. - .-.-.-

 _"You aren't."_ He couldn't do very long messages. Even this was kind of pushing it.

"That's exactly what a delusion would say." Stan pointed out, getting up on shaky legs and starting to walk out, giving the body and blood a wide berth. 

.. - ... ....... ... - .- -. ..-. --- .-. -..

_"It's Stanford."_

__That stopped him in his tracks, whether he thought it was a figment of his imagination or not. He glanced back at the pen and shuddered, putting his hands in his pockets._ _

__\--. .... --- ... - .-.-.-_ _

___"Ghost."_ _ _

__It was all he could offer for explanation._ _

__"...Sure." Stan shrugged, apparently willing to humor him, and sat at his kitchen table, refusing to look at the body._ _

__\-- ..- .-. -.. . .-. . -.._ _

___"Murdered."_ _ _

__It was getting a little hard to actually continue doing this. Ghosting, it's kind of hard when you died that same morning._ _

__"By who?" Stan asked, staring out the window._ _

__Stanford hesitated, not sure how far he could extend Stan's suspension of belief. In the end, he decided he wouldn't be able keep up a lie. He also was having a hard time with communicating._ _

__-.. . -- --- -._ _

___"Demon."_ _ _

__Plain and simple truth._ _

__"Sure." Stan pushed the chair back, apparently done with this. Before he could leave the kitchen, Stanford managed one last message._ _

__-.-. --- -- . ....... -... .- -.-. -.- ....... - --- -- --- .-. .-. --- .--_ _

___"Come back tomorrow."_ _ _

__Stan stopped a for a second, then gave the smallest nod._ _

__"Sure, wouldn't be the dumbest thing I've done."_ _

__Then he left the house entirely, leaving Stanford to his thoughts._ _

__He hoped he'd be able to convince him to dispose of his body._ _


	4. *Eustace Bagge voice* Stupid Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nice Stan and Bill chat, because apparently that's one of my favorite tropes.

Stan walked out of the maybe haunted, definitely creepy, house, snow crunching under his boots.

Whatever was going on, whether ghosts were real or his mind finally cracked from the stress, he decided he hated this stupid town and he'd be much happier in Philadelphia ignorant to the corpse in his brother's kitchen.

At least he had enough cash to stay in a motel for the night. The last thing he needed was to freeze to death.

He tore out of the driveway, oblivious to the fact the trees had eyes.

-

Stan checked into the nearest motel, not making direct eye contact with anybody and wasting no time getting to his room.

He briefly considered taking a shower, then decided he cared more about being tired than considerably filthy and conked out the second he laid down.

-

Now, Stan had been having considerably strange dreams all his life, but the weirder ones usually at least followed some kind of plot.

This specific considerably strange dream had no such decency. It was all optical illusions and eyes.

Sometimes the eyes started talking, trying to coax him into something. He didn't bother listening.

Until of course, everything faded to grayscale and there was a weird meat triangle in front of him. It shimmered a little till it was an annoying to look at yellow.

"Hey, you!" The stupid thing practically shouted at him, nudging him in the side with it's elbow.

"Ucgh. Yeah. Me. Now never talk again." Stan pinched the bridge of his nose, looking anywhere but the triangle. 

"Aw, don't be like that, Stan-O!" It clapped him on the back. It wasn't quite screaming in his ear, but it sure felt like it was.

"You're gonna give me a migraine." He groaned and sighed, screwing his eyes shut.

"Fair enough! Name's Bill, Bill Cipher." The glow in the dark idiot moved in front of him, extending a hand. Unfortunately for it, Stan was still looking pointedly at the ground with his eyes shut. 

It hurt a lot less.

"Good for you." He opened one eye a crack and walked around the thing, able to manage the headache now that it wasn't in his field of view.

"Well now you're just being rude. Not up for a chat?" The bastard came up in front of him again. He never could take saturated colors, no matter the quantity.

"I'd rather knock myself out with a frying pan." Stan grumbled.

"You're exactly how your crazy brother described you. A real breath of fresh air." Bill pat him on the back again, much softer this time.

"Yeah?" He didn't actually seem all that interested. Still didn't think making eye contact was worth it, at least.

"I spent the last five years knocking around his head helping him with his research, and lemme tell ya! He was a real drag, _and_ not right in the head! No wonder he went off the deep end!" The thing yammered on. Stan was only half listening.

"Looks I'm not too far behind, eh?" Stan muttered. 

"Oh far from it, Stan-O! All that ninny's clicking around was very real, unfortunately. But I can easily help you put him to rest!" It offered, then shrugged and added on, "Or, anything else you want."

"Neat. Say, ya wouldn't happen to be a demon, would ya?" Stan remembered something about a demon being the supposed murderer. It's kinda hard to pay attention when you're on the verge of a panic attack.

"Honestly, Stanley, I'm insulted." The thing faked a pout.

"Hi Insulted, I'm exhausted." 

"Very funny. Think on it. I'll be back." 

And with that, the dream imploded.

He woke up with a massive headache immediately shoved his head under a pillow.

After a half hour, it went down more or less and he got a look at the time.

5:00 AM.

He groaned and sat up, deciding a hot shower was finally in order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man I dunno its like 5 AM I don't control the story


End file.
